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Jaegers that Never Were!AUs
See also: Jaegers that Weren't!AUs Amplifier (I don't think I have Nate's voice right) 'verse one The two Rangers have a booth at the back and off center, but they are so very /there. Nate catches Sabine's eye— Sabine smiles, invites her to join them. The darker skinned beauty at her right has an arm thrown somewhat over her shoulders absently playing with the hair at the back of her neck, matching bomber open over a bandeau, glints of silver, and a black fluttery tattoo whisping to the side of abs Nate wants to get her mouth on. "So you're Charlie," greets Nate, sliding into the booth. Charlie looks pleased. "This is Nate," says Sabine. "The Jaeger Fly." It's not an insult. "/Queen of the Jaeger Flies." Nate motions the waiter for a drink. "Really." "Really really." Charlie sits back. "So what does the Queen Jaeger Fly do?" Nate thanks the waiter, stirs her drink. "I let a Ranger take me home, I get their clothes off, and then we fuck. Difference being, I'm the best." . So they're making out behind the stairs; Charlie has an arm braced over their heads and Nate has her fingers in Charlie's belt loops, and things are /really getting hot when Charlie pulls away, breathing hard. "Gonna take me home?" asks Nate, tugging Charlie close. "Maybe," pants Charlie. Nate raises an eyebrow. "What about dessert?" "Can't we take it to go?" . In the car, Nate leans over and kisses Charlie, two fingers gently turning her chin and then sliding around to cup the base of her skull as she gets one leg over both of Charlie's and closes her in. Charlie drags her fingers nails up Nate's thighs, lets her neck relax a bit. Nate takes the invitation, tilts Charlie's head up, deepens the kiss, flicks her tongue against Charlie's lips. Charlie hums, and then there're teeth as she slides her hands up Nate's skirt, hem catching on her knuckles and riding higher. Nate digs her knees into Charlie's hips, not so much sitting now as kneeling, presses herself against Charlie, pushes her head father back. Charlie goes for it, nails scraping Nate's hips, and Nate has the sense Charlie's only letting her think she's in charge. . They get to the suite Charlie shares with Sabine and kick off their shoes and then they're kissing and they're doing this odd push-pull thing where Nate's pushing Charlie back towards the sleeping quarters and Charlie's pulling her, leading her while she walks backwards. Nate pushes Charlie back onto the bed, takes her in. Charlie pushes herself up just a bit, jeans riding even lower, eyes dark. Nate joins her, and very deliberately sits astride Charlie's legs. "I," Hooks a finger over the top of Charlie's jeans. "Have been thinking about your abs," Pops the button. "All," Pulls down her fly. "Night." Charlie grins, and it's part pleased, part unsure as to whether she should laugh. . "Ohmigod, Charlie--" Charlie pulls away, propping herself up between Nate's legs, and actually turns the vibrator off. "Really, Mx?" Nate smirks/smugs, reclines against the pillows. "Oh, Ranger Darling," Rolls her hips. "--please--" Charlie smirks, lowers herself. "'Please' what, Mx?" Gently puts her mouth to Nate's clit. "Ranger Darling," pleads Nate. "Please, please, I need--I need you to fuck me--" Charlie sucks on Nate's clit /hard. 'verse 2 In the car, Nate leans over and kisses Charlie, two fingers gently turning her chin and then sliding around to cup the base of her skull as she gets one leg over both of Charlie's and closes her in. Charlie drags her fingers nails up Nate's thighs, lets her neck relax a bit. Nate takes the invitation, tilts Charlie's head up, deepens the kiss, flicks her tongue against Charlie's lips. Charlie hums, and then there're teeth as she slides her hands up Nate's skirt, hem catching on her knuckles and riding higher. Sabine presses her fingertips between Charlie's. Nate takes Sabine's hand, pulls it up under her shirt. . "I will get stuff," Charlie pants. "You get stuff," Sabine agrees. "You--" A finger hooked in Nate's collar. "--this way." "Like I haven't been here before," scoffs Nate as Charlie wanders to the washroom. "How're we going to do this?" wonders Sabine. "I want my mouth on those abs, like, yesterday." "Someone needs to sculpt Charlie," Sabine agrees, taking off her bomber. Nate works on her shirt. "I think someone /did." ""Good point."" Sabine frees herself from the straps of hers. Nate sighs. Sabine queries. "They look like fun." Sabine grins. "I'll just have to wear it again." The door opens and Charlie's a little startled. "Off," says Sabine. Charlie's shoulders straighten. Sabine rolls her eyes. "You take command for Jaeger drops, I take command for trouser drops. Strip." . Rangers were, almost as a rule, somewhat weird. Naturally, this leads to Rangers being rather kinky, which is why Nate fucked Charlie with a strap on reminiscent of a light-up tentacle, rides Sabine on something that moved, and was then fucked by her and a piece with a variety of settings controlled via preset buttons on the harness or by remote which Charlie stole and messed around with until Nate closed that hand in hers and put her mouth between Charlie's legs and tried to draw a conclusion between Charlie's squeaks and gasps and the settings changing. . "That was fun," says Charlie, wrapped loosely in a blanket and reclining in a corner of the bed. "Honey," says Nate. "I haven't been half the places I wanna go." . Sabine had her collection of strap ons ("I like to have my hands free."), and between the three of them, Charlie'd hooked up in the widest variety of places, including but not limited to the Drivesuit room, two different rec room couches ("Though does it count if we were on a towel?" "Yes." Nate and Sabine instantly.), the Kwoon ("Twice."), the gym, the locker room and the locker room shower, her bed ("Obviously." "Obviously," they agree), and in the backseat of an ute in the garage. "Oh, and I screwed a tech in the Connpod." "You're kidding," says Sabine. Charlie grins, all teeth, smug, proud, and sprawls a little less efficiently. Soundboard Lily insisted on taking Jackson out for dinner for their monthly meet, so there they sit, at patio table in front of a fancy restaurant with a reservation list six weeks long--unless you were Lily Prince, lawyer extrodinare. Something ripples through the street, charging the air with a special kind of electricity. "Rangers at eight o clock," whispers Lily. Jackson dares a peek over his shoulder. . ""Is this Jackson Jones, friend if Lily Prince?"" "Uh, yes?" ""Oh thank god. Ranger Darling said you looked cute. Are you interested?"" "Interested in what?" ""Being kept like a pet, mostly likely for the weekend. Mx Prince want interested."" "Uh, sure?" ""Awesome, thank you! Pack an overnight bag, a car'll pick you up in an hour."" "Wait--why--" ""You will find, Mx Jones, being a Ranger is point one percent awesome and ninety-nine point nine person mind-numbingly dull."" TBD Two Rangers walk, matching each other step-for-step, into a bar. The bouncer ushers them right to Nate's table. "Rangers," greets Nate. "How may I help you?" "Well," says the blonde, "we got this in the mail." Hands over a perfumed invitation. "One of mine," Nate purrs. "I'm so glad you could make it." Kisses the card, hands it back. "Welcome to my court." The blonde tucks the card into her bomber, both herself and her copilot preening. "Please, have a seat." "Thank you," says the blonde. Silencer (From "Charlie scraps") Charlie's asked to the dean's office. PPDC's there. They (and the dean) rave about her accomplishments and her grades and all her contributions to the university (she's a notetaker for all her classes, TAs a couple others), what a good fit she'd be for the Jaeger programme and University of Sydney would be /'thrilled' to sponsor her. "It's a relationship built on mutual trust and respect. Not just your Drift partner, but your LOCCENT team and your crew. It's like a second family--they're there to help you and have your back." Charlie says 'yes'. Charlie goes to the Academy. She's fast-tracked for the next Jaeger. Keeps to herself, barely looks at anyone, much less talks. They do manage to find her an 02--Sabine, she-her-hers, blonde. First time they Drift, they wake up the next morning in the same bed, sticky and tangled together. They get on with their lives. . Their Jaeger's brutally efficient. (Charlie gets Sabine to coordinate with the other teams and LOCCENT.) They sleep together a couple more times, always after they Drift, always desperate comebackcomebackcomeback— Until they don't. Charlie stops speaking all together, starts withdrawing. Sabine worries, brings it up with their handler. The PTBs give Charlie pretty things, pretty people, try to get her to engage with /'something'— Mattie, wearing her most flattering shirt, hair style, and makeup, and awesome jeans, follows the handler into the suite Charlie shares with Sabine. Charlie's just finishing supper. "This is Mattie," says the handler. "Hi!" greets Mattie. "Maybe you two could hang out tonight." "Books're over there," replies Charlie, voice surprisingly gravelly, plugging the sink. The handler stifles a sigh. Mattie gives them a thumbs up. Charlie adds soap. 'Good luck,' mouths the handler. Mattie smiles. Charlie turns on the water, returns to the table for her dishes. The handler leaves quietly. "So," Mattie wanders to the couch. "Recommend anything?" "On the bookcase." Mattie picks one with an author she recognizes. "Wasn't this the guy in the news the other day?" "Couldn't tell you." "I'll look it up!" Charlie washes her cutlery. "Never mind, wrong guy." Charlie washes her plate. Mattie looks around. Lots of trinkets, lots of pictures with beaming famous people (Charlie smiling shyly)-- Mattie frowns. Come to think of it, had she ever heard Charlie say anything in press conferences? Mattie can't bring an instance to mind. Charlie sits on the couch as far from Mattie as she can, turns on the TV. "Anything good on?" asks Mattie. The channel connects. Click. Click. Click. Mattie tilts her head. Click. One second. Click. One second. "This show's pretty good." Five seconds. Ten seconds. Commercial break. Click. Mattie swallows a sigh, tries again every couple of minutes until they hit a music station--"I /'love' this song!" She throws herself to her feet, belts out the lyrics, dances around the main room, adds a cadenza of her own on the find chord, and bows with a flourish. Click. Mattie hops back-- Click. --sits in the middle of the couch-- Click. --continues offering recommendations every few minutes, and tries to decide if Charlie's a blank wall of the smoothest glass to which nothing sticks or a fun and energy-sucking black hole. (She's pretty sure Charlie's more the first.) And that's what they do until precisely 2100 hours, at which point Charlie turns off the TV and goes to her room. Mattie follows. Charlie's room, like the suite, has loads of personality and /'looks' lived-in but feels ... lifeless. Unloved (that's not right). Like a museum exhibit--"the habitat of the 20teens young adult!". Charlie flops into bed, cracks open a paperback. Her closet-- "Oh my gosh!" squees Mattie. "They're so pretty!" Hesitates, twists to Charlie. "Lemme know if I shouldn't touch anything." Corner of Charlie's mouth twitches up. Mattie mentally celebrates, pulls a garment out at random, checks herself out in the mirror. "I love this colour but it looks /'awful' on me." Sighs, but smiles and curtsies to her reflection, returns the dress to the closet, takes out another. Charlie's closet is chock-full of clothes, sensible shoes, two labeled garment bags (-Suit #1, #2- and -Launch gala-), and three pairs of /'wicked' heels (one gold, one black, and one in her team colours). And that's what they do until precisely 2130 hours, at which point Charlie sets the book on the bedside table, gathers her PJs from the dresser, and leaves. Mattie peeks out the door-- The washroom door closes. Mattie counts to five, packages away her depressing thoughts, and pulls out her mobile. message sent: this isn't working message received: damn. message sent: sorry message received: no, no, it's fine. you were our last resort. if you couldn't connect, no one could. message-- The washroom door opens. Mattie shoves her mobile back in her pocket. Charlie drops her folded clothes in the hamper, tucks herself into bed. "Night." Turns off the light. "Night!" chirps Mattie. "Want me to close the door--" Charlie sounds like she's already asleep. Mattie lets herself out, hits the hall light, curls up on the couch again with her book, and waits for the handler. . So they send Charlie home. Her family doesn't try to get her to talk; they only see her when the table's set, hide-nor-hair the rest of the time (Tilda, too, for that matter. They're not worried even if she and Charlie aren't wandering together). . The PTBs bring Charlie back to the base. She doesn't look at anyone, much less talk. She and Sabine keep Drifting, keep deploying, keep winning. And then Charlie slips away. The other team takes the kill, the choppers pull them from the ocean; they're a little bruised from the fall but otherwise fine. Charlie reacts slowly to noise, hardly at all to pain, and doesn't notice anything in a visual field (people, for instance. Sabine. Their handler. Doctors, family, crew, faces she sees everyday. A potted plant.). DriftSci runs every test they can think of, hooks Charlie up to every available sim, including some not even in development yet. Nothing. . The PTBs give Charlie an honourable discharge, send her home. Takes two days; the first they spend putting together more shelves and organizers (Little Mike and two of the strays grumble they could've /'built' far better stuff in less time), hanging the clothes they gave her in her closet, and arranging trinkets and baubles around her room. They keep to themselves and the household stays clear, trying not to be too obvious with their side eyes. They bring Charlie the second day, pushing the wheelchair through the porch, around to the back swing at Cecilia's bequest. They get her set; Charlie tucks her legs up and relaxes into the nest of blankets and pillows, books, games, and lemonade. Tilda makes herself comfortable on the veranda in a sunbeam, gives the lot of them dirty looks. One of the PPDC briefs Cecilia on Charlie's medication, what they should do, what they could do, and what they might expect. (Cecilia half-hopes she keeps her sneer under control.) Then the PPDC tip their hats and leave. Cecilia goes onto the porch and looks at Charlie, and reflects she knew so little about their niece that she couldn't say she didn't recognize her in this state, that she wouldn't know 'conscious' or 'present' from not, and what a pity she probably never would. She swallows the pang and orders Big Mike and a stray into the kitchen to help her with lunch while Red, tending the garden under the railing, gives this 'narrating their day out loud' business a shot. One morning of the third week, as Cecilia's checking on the state of Charlie's toast, Charlie catches her hand, doesn't let go. . She notices her family over the next few weeks, tracking them with only her eyes at first, and then her head. She figures out how to move her arms next, and within six months she can walk around on her own. (Cecilia doesn't say it out loud, but Charlie's skin feels less like the ambient air temperature and more actually warm.) And then one day, when they think everything may be golden from then on, the pump breaks. Instead of replacing it, the house decides to build a new, more efficient system. Their local guy says it's buildable and that maintenance wouldn't be an issue, but they didn't know quite how to design it. The house does some research, keeps getting recommended to this place in Sydney. Cecilia and Red head down, come back a week later with a few consultants. Cecilia shows them around and Red gets lunch going, shooing Charlie from the kitchen despite her protests she could cook just fine. Red agrees, and then points out taste is a more obvious selling feature than a nigh-inedible dish crammed full of nutrients. Charlie huffs, gets the door for Tilda, and marches out back to help feed the flock, Tilda matching her step for step and grumbling the whole time. Charlie just gives her a Look and lugs a bag from the silo. Tilda snaps. A strange voice squawks. Charlie huffs, tugs Tilda away. Stranger picks themselves off the ground. "Uh--" Clears their throat. "Hey." "Hey." Returns to doling out feed. "So you're Charlie?" "I know where she is." Stranger shuffles into her peripheral, rubbing their neck. "Mrs Cecilia said I should talk to a "Charlie" about getting pictures of the pipe behind the nest of one "Tilda the grouch"?" Tilda huffs, ruffles her feathers. "Can't a hand help?" "They've all mysteriously vanished." Charlie twists, casts an eye over the yard. Besides herself, Cecilia, and the consultants, no other humans in sight. She returns to the bag. "Tilda can show you." "I don't think Tilda can spell things out for a mechanically-disinclined noob." "Then you're going to have to wait." "I can wait. You're pretty--your arms are pretty--you're poetry in motion--gawd, that's /'such' a cliché--I'm going to shut up now." Charlie fills the trough, takes a breather while she's crouched. Stray seed on the brim. Also, emus eying her general area hungrily. Tilda tucks in. Charlie flicks the seed. "Ow." "Thought you said you were gonna shut up." But she's smiling. "C'mon." Folds up the bag, heads off. Meta I'm sorta thinking Mattie's an escort-ish the PPDC has on retainer. Big Mike used to be just Mike and then she had a kid (he's younger than Charlie) at which point they needed something to call the kid so they called him 'Little Mike' and her 'Big Mike'. The strays are the semi-homeless youth who wander in and out. They get three meals a day (and tea), board if they don't mind the stable or the loft, and half minimum wage 'cause the Darlings can only afford that much. Utonium (From "Button family scraps") Blossom tracks Buttercup down at his favourite park, announces, "The Professor wants to see us tomorrow at nine." Buttercup grunts. "What d'you think it's about?" He sits up, crosses his legs. "Nothing good." Blossom snorts. The next morning, they're all on the couch in The Professor's office; Blossom perches between Bubbles and Buttercup. That's not The Professor behind the desk, not the familiar thug working the door. PPDC's there in their places. They rave about their skill as a fighting team and what a good fit they'd be for the Jaeger programme, how it would be a chance for them to make something of themselves, give back to society. Buttercup laughs, pushes to his feet, strolls— The thug on the door blocks his path— —shoves by— —drops him with a shot from a taser. The Suit behind the desk sighs. "We'd /'hoped' to discuss this like adults, but some people are apparently incapable. Now, then—" Bubbles and Blossom swallow. In Kodiak, Buttercup and Bubbles shift into what Buttercup calls 'round peg' mode; Blossom mostly keeps her head down. The PTBs gleefully announce they've developed a three-way Drift for them. Bubbles' Compatibility score is /'just' within the safety margin. The PTBs hook her up anyway. The first Drift— A /''white-bright-magnesium-blue'' flash and a taste of copper— Blossom wakes up in Medical a month later. Buttercup comes to within the half hour. Bubbles never does. The PTBs remove the third arm from their under-construction Jaeger. Blossom and Buttercup pass the fitness-for-duty test and the PTBs hook them up. The second Drift— A storm of /''black-green-blue'' burning like ice, twining around her /''sunny-violet-warm''. Afterward, Buttercup locks himself in the washroom. Blossom curls up on her bed and /''aches''. They Drift, they deploy, they win. As soon as they're de-armoured, Buttercup locks himself away. In between drops, he won't speak to her, won't look at her. She understands and the /''ache'' grows. Their sixth drop, sixth kill— Blossom burritos in three blankets to wait out the /''ache''. Buttercup croaks, "Hey," from the doorway. The morning after, she wakes up sore, sated, alone. The washroom door's locked. Blossom swallows ECP at Medical. They Drift, they deploy, they win, they fuck. Buttercup avoids her, says nothing. Blossom twists her hair, says nothing. Eleven drops, eleven kills: a new record. They Drift, they deploy, they— The Drift fractures. They keep it together, the other team takes the kill, they stagger back to shore. The morning after, Blossom throws up in her trash bin. Medical offers her a choice of pills. The PTBs offer an honourable discharge if she takes the vitamins. She takes the vitamins and goes home. Word comes Buttercup's been discharged, too, and vanished god-knows-where. Seven months later, Blossom basks in a Townsville sunbeam, hands folded atop the shelf of her belly. Buttercup croaks, "Hey," from the garden gate. Category:Ficlet Category:Jaegers that weren't!AUs Category:Charlie Category:Charlie (ficlet) Category:Jackson Category:Jackson (ficlet) Category:Darling homestead Category:Darling family Category:Jackson's workplace Category:Tilda Category:Tilda (ficlet)